Divergence Point(s): None identified.Current Events: The Red Army surrounds the Nazi Capital, crushing the German people in their unstoppable advance.

Neukölln District – South Berlin
The surrounding cityscape was one drawn straight from Hell itself, any recognisable buildings and streets demolished by Wehrmacht defensive fortifications or Red Army artillery.
The historical Gründerzeit Buildings largely destroyed, decades if not Centuries of architectural history laid to waste.

The final Allied air raid had finished leaving the way for the Red Army, their scouts now crept into the ruins, sporadic fire fights erupted across the city.
Upon encountering heavy resistance the Soviets unleashed unimaginable levels of artillery and the infamous Stalin’s Organs, sheets of fire ascending to the heavens before raining devastation down upon the survivors.

Digital information flowed through the travellers field of vision, a stranger in a strange land he had little knowledge of this places history, however in the few days that he’d been here he’d understood the ferocity of the conflict and its inhumanity.
A sickly taste sat in the back of this throat, from his vantage point within the shell of what might have once been someone’s shop he looked in sadness at the swinging corpse of a boy, no more than fourteen or fifteen, the enemy hadn’t reached this point yet so his own side had hung him.

The four pointed symbol of the doomed regime, sat ominously within it white circle surrounded by blood red, its monsters presumably the ones who had taken a frightened boy and perpetrated this horror.
‘The Evil that men do’ he thought, glancing left and right, no one was visible he quickly darted from his cover and down into a subway entrance, as he did the entire square above him erupted in rocket fire from descending.

Pressing his not inconsiderable size into the shadows of the deserted tunnels he checked his scanner, the information again relayed into his vision.
It had taken him two days to isolate a fix, his research had identified these Worlds as having the highest concentrations, however the sheer devastation and level of material had required a considerable amount of filtering while dodging murderous inhabitants.
Another warning flashed in his sight, odd a temporal flux, a spike of temporal energy.
He had to develop a way of communicating with Strad, isolation wasn’t good or healthy.

***East Templehoff District - South Central Berlin
Private Moors turned as the night sky turned white, he saw a wide column of fire rise in a vertical line and immediately descend, he had no time to shout any warning as the streets were enveloped in cleansing fire.
Blinded he felt the impact against left side of his ribcage, as he was smashed to the floor by the force, his pained cry drowned in the fury, his vision swam swirls of black across white.
As it finally cleared he sensed the heat of anger and violence, a muffled voice, urgent

“Moor, getf uph, get up!”
As his vision grew clearer he saw the Lieutenant shaking him, in slow motion he saw a cloud erupt from the back of his helmet and Moor shouted again as his CO fell upon him.
Tearfully his vision still blurred he saw figures running towards him, one scrambling up the pile of wreckage on which he lay, he shouted impotently.

The red star on the attackers helmet exploded outwards, the contorted look of rage upon his face unchanged as his body wilted beneath him.
A bulky figure flung the wreckage of a building off him as he came out firing, he had resurfaced behind the Russian unit, putting a pistol round through each of them.
One Red managed to avoid his fate, ambushing him from the side, Moor squinted managing to pick out that the figure was the new Sarge, the big man caught the Reds charge catching his collar with his free left hand and swinging him into the nearest wall.
Moor blinked as almost magically a blade appeared in the sarges hand, may be it was more but his vision was still all out of wack, he winced as the sarge slammed the blade through the Russians back.

“Get up” said the sarge, as he rolled Lieutenant Finch’s corpse off him, Moor did as he was told the sarge didn’t look in the mood, his combats and face were scorched and blackened.
“Sssss Sarge”
The big man just looked at him
“Where are the others?”
“Probably dead” came the reply as he moved off
The OGS Unit had known that his was probably a no return mission, suicide but reality was a bit more difficult to swallow.

***East Templehoff District - South Central Berlin
“CRYING A STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN, AAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH”
the notes swam through the Chorus, Raz crouched over Annette his vision concentrating on the oddly intact yellow post box across the street.
Fire and concussion swam around him, the trick was to intercept the cacophony and twist it upon itself, to throw the blast notes back upon itself, the strain was maintaining this.

A moment that stretched on forever, Annette screaming beneath him ‘Keep singing’ he shouted in his head ‘KEEP SINGING’

Finally the rain of fire stopped, his vision swimming he listened to the sounds filtering the remnants of destruction, then faintly he heard a new but welcome note ‘At last’
Annette Garrett stood fear subsided, then coalescing into anger “Why the hell did you bring me here!” he snapped
“Ssssh” Raz said in reply
“Don’t you shush me”
“This way” he said, grabbing her arm and started to run
“What about the others” she blurted surprised to be hurried
“Can you see them”
Annette quickly looked around, all she could see was smouldering rubble, saying nothing more she quickened her pace

***South East Templehoff District - South Central Berlin
The pair of them looked somewhat stunned by the scene before them
“Bloody hell” breathed Sam
Jimmy Ambrose snapped out of it, crouched and drew the map Van Horne had given him.
“Sam, look lively” he said a little too properly for Jimmy, but sufficiently curt enough to get his attention
“Sorry Sir”
The pair of them watched as the rickety Conveyer cycled through its coordinates and then finally vanished, it certainly wasn’t an Infinity Conveyer, it had creaked and shuddered during transit which was several minutes beyond instantaneous.

“Right according to our friend the quickest and least hostile route is to use the auxiliary transit tunnel to the Airports basement levels, it will be guarded but less so than any other route”
Sam regarded the map, “The subway being the best route to this tunnel?” he replied
“Yes” Jimmy regarded the map and looked around, they were hidden within the wreckage of an office, however every building around them was a shell.
“I think the nearest entrance is here” he pointed to the map
Sam nodded, shouldering his heavy pack and unslinging his mechanised carbine, they flinched as to the north the sky lit up and a rocket attack smashed into an area.

Divergence Point(s): None identified.Current Events: The final weeks of World War II in Europe.

French Airspace.
Had the Arador Ar 234 Jet bomber entered the Luftwaffe’s arsenal even a few months earlier the Allies would have had a serious problem.
Karl von Geller was impressed, this was a plane of another age, the herald of three decades of conflict to come, it had reached a speed of 700 mph and passed the Soviet air defence before they’d even had time to react.
The Luftwaffe pilot swung the plane immediately south and kept the throttle down, the ME 262 peeled off and headed North.

Despite his better judgement he’d martialled the remaining OGS GIs, pushed them through the German defences and beyond the Red Armies advance.
They’d hit the museum, their objective dead along with the Leuitenant, his however he’d found in the hands of what turned out to be another traveller and thus an impass had arisen.

He’d postioned the GIs around the Nazi doctor, just in case he might have got any ideas of treacherory, try that among a group of tired, trigger happy paratroopers who’d just been shot at by your army.

Satisfied he’d secured any relative threats he headed towards the back benchs of the plane, opposite the individual he’d learned was called Lord Sebastian Reynolds.
He hadn’t checked the package the Lord had handed him, but he’d been a private eye for several decades and a person didn’t just hand over something they’d risked life and limb to acquire, not without arguement or threat to life and limb.
As he took his seat he sized the English toff up, physically lithe Von Geller however was wary, he sensed a powerful force of personality, an individual who also didn't play his hand too soon.

Murcia, Spain - Late April 1945
The Arador jet came down heavily along a makeshift airstrip through a tobacco field, torches lit its passage through the early morning darkness, its jets incinerating the crops to its rear as it bumped along the farmland.

Their reception were Spaniards, who seemed to be friendly with the Nazi Doctor, a few odd looks were exchanged at the rag tag group including soldiers in American uniforms, however they were all equally hurried to awaiting cars and driven some 20 miles to the coast.

The yanks were in the hotels bar toasting departed comrades and thanking the stars for their own survival, wearily one by one the haphazard collection drifted from their seats responding to the call of sleep.

La Torre Resort Hotel , Murcia, Spain - April 1945
A great many more years than his outward appearance would suggest, of experience took Karl Von Geller from fast asleep to wide awake.
He sensed trouble moments before the first shot was fired, still dressed in his shirt and trousers, he pulled his briefs back over his shoulders, drew his automatics and folded into the window frame.
Several figures were covering the retreat of a group who in turn were clambering aboard a canvas covered truck, below him on the sand coloured slabs lay several figures bleeding out.

A plethora of visual enhancers gave him almost daylight quality vision, which quickly told him the Nazi doctors Spanish allies were the wounded.
He frowned as he caught sight of one of the attackers “You shouldn’t be here he muttered”
Unaware of the circumstances these creatures presence wasn’t good, snapping his .45 up he fired, two rounds catching the nearest opponent, he didn’t pause a second double tap into the next and another set into the back of the third within sight.

He ducked as a volley of automatic fire smashed into the window frame, which fortunately being an old stone affair took the punishment, he swung back exposing only his arm and returned fire.
The nearest two had taken the rounds and were still standing, swinging back he reloaded, waited out the next barrage and resumed fire, concentrating completely on one opponent.
The firing stopped, catching a quick glimpse one was downed, the others retreating, looking down he cursed, another form was lying wounded, the camp ones girl “Damn”

***
Digitalised neural pathways fired, subconscious subroutines were overridden by alarms that brought Otto Von Weirdigan back to the land of the living.
A sense of disconnection struck him as he looked up from his four poster at the faux Renaissance painting adorning the ceiling above him, he frowned was that gunfire.
‘It bloody was’ he mentally bellowed throwing the sheets off himself and leaving the best days sleep he had in a good number of days, pulling some clothes on he thundered down the main staircase, rushing toward the sound of the gunfire he spotted the prone form of Raz’s friend Annett.
His survival instincts were overruled by his sense of protection, barrelling through the shattered French doors and took a defensive stance over her body, as a reward he was struck by several rounds.

Otto ignored them as he focused on another fallen form “What the Fuck are you doing here” he snarled

***
Lord Roborough had quickly acquainted himself with the situation, trouble it seemed followed them where ever they went.
Sam had already proceeded down the stairs, quickly returning “Sir, Miss Garrett has been shot”
“Damn” cursed Reynolds, “And Mr Meldtz is missing from his room”
Reynold’s was already moving back along the first floor balcony, arriving at a certain room and began to hammer on the door.

“RAZ GET UP, ANNETTS HURT”
No answer
“RAZ GET UP”
No answer
“RAZ FOR GOODNESS SAKE GET THE HELL UP!”
The door swung open and a face covered in blond hair looked at him
“Wuz goin on” Raz slurred
Reynolds wasted little time grabbing the elf and rushing him downstairs

Reynolds stood aside from Annette and let Raz, who seemed to have sobered up in an instant at the sight of the young woman’s injuries, get on with whatever it was he did.
Otto and von Geller were more interested in the assailants and seemed to be chatting in hushed tones about them.
Reynolds’ interest had been purely on the reporter and therefore he had paid little attention to them. Raz and Sam carefully lifted Annette and carried her to the lounge where Raz had her laid on a settee.
The baron felt pretty useless at the moment.
Von Geller came up alongside him, standing in the doorway and observing from a distance. “How’s she doing?”
“I’m not sure. Raz has a lot of hidden talents and I’m betting he will not see her ill for long.”
“Good,” the big man said.
“Do we know what this was all about?” Reynolds asked.
“Not yet. Otto’s looking into it, I think.”
“Well, whatever it is could spell more trouble to come,” Reynolds said glancing across at the soldier.
“Mr von Geller,” he said quietly, so that his conversation would not be overheard, “You and I should have a chat.”
“Yes, but is now the time?”
“If we are about to get involved in something here, then I need to know that you and I have an understanding.”
“Fair enough. What have you got to say?”
“I know why you are here, and that Sciven sent you.”
Von Geller gave the Englishman a curious sideways glance.
“Then you know I’m not going to be taking an old grubby map of Germany back to him.”
Reynolds gave an embarrassed smile. “Yes, well, I didn’t figure on us staying together for this amount of time. I had assumed that we would all be parting company rather rapidly. Sorry.”
“But we didn’t so here we are…”
“Indeed. You are a soldier, so I would assume that the item itself is not so important as the money you have been paid to collect it?”
“I’m a private investigator and no it’s not just about the money. I’ll make a guess here – you were about to offer me more than Sciven. But I have a reputation to maintain and that includes loyalty to my clients.”
“Loyalty?” Reynolds scoffed. “You needn’t worry about loyalty where that treacherous bastard is concerned.”
Von Geller turned to face the Englishman now so that he could study his face. “That sounded a little more than someone just repeating something they had heard,” he stated.
“Yes,” Reynolds admitted. “I won’t go into the details, but a colleague and I were employed on a job by your Mr Sciven. He set us up for a fall and tried to make off with the proceeds. It was only sheer blood mindedness on my part that stopped him and my friend lost a leg over it.”
Von Geller was quiet for a while, then said, “I know the sort of man Sciven is, Mr Reynolds,” he was sure not to use the honorific title so that Reynolds remembered that they were on an even footing here. “And I know just how far to trust him. But he’s not just a paycheque, he’s a contact for other clients that I can’t afford to let go.”
Reynolds walked a few paces from the door, his back to von Geller and he lit a cigar, offering one to the PI who accepted with a nod.
“I’ll be straight with you, Mr von Geller. If it came down to going toe to toe with you I know you’d come off the better, despite the efforts of Mr Brocklesby to thwart you. But I don’t work that way. I would rather come to an arrangement we both found to our advantage.”
Sitting in a chair he motioned for the German-born American to do the same.
“What would you say if I were to offer you half of what I make when I sell the documents to Sciven’s employer direct. Sciven takes one hell of a cut if I remember correctly. This way you gain financially, I’ll tell the client that you got it - thus keeping your reputation intact, and I’ll introduce you to Mr van Locke, who can probably offer you equally as lucrative work as Sciven, without the high probability of you getting fucked over? Either that or you can just tell Sciven that I got there first. He knows who I am and that I’m more than capable of stealing things right from under a person’s nose. I can’t see that would hurt your rep, he’d be more pissed off at me. So how about it?”

Again von Geller was quiet. The offer was tempting, but there was something nagging at the back of his mind that said he should complete the mission.
He had to remind himself that he wasn’t a soldier anymore and this wasn’t a mission, no matter how much it felt like one. This was a job, and one that he could walk away from if he wanted.
It was a tough call and one he would have to think about.

Raz’eal Sephiroth snapped from drunken grogginess, a rude, painful awakening that brought him face to face with a badly wounded Annett.
Slapping himself with enough force to jar him, he snarled a warning to himself
He sung a soft melody, almost a lullaby calling the very forces of the Spheres to him, however the forces resisted, he had called too much in too little time.
The forces eddied and flowed, her wound caused by almost certainly a rifle round bubbled and hissed, partially healing then almost reverting to its original state.

“DAMN NOT NOW!” he raged
“What ever we are too do sir, had better be quick, she’s strong but that s draining away” urged Samuel Brocklesbury
“I KNOW” Raz’s face was slick with sweat
Sam looked in sympathy, his extensive first aid skills had done their best, but even a Field Surgeon would struggle to sort this mess out.

“You need to calm yourself sir, concentrate”
“I KNOW, I know” he replied
‘Jobe please’ he sang in his mind, the mental note drifting
Lord Roborough shivered turning away from the stoic form of Karl Von Geller, he saw the shadows lengthen and looked perturbed, for his part the PI looked and saw nothing
A form curled off the translucent form of The Sword, in a suggestive way it wiggled past the pair, even Raz failed to see her, placing her hands upon Annetts bosom she allowed the Multiverses song to flow into her, invigorating her song.
Once done she stood curling a tantalising finger slowly around the elf’s jaw line and finally ending upon caressing the nape of his neck, even then he didn’t sense her presence no one did, until she sang
“Be careful for when you call, you will be answered”
As she vanished back to the Sword, Raz’s eyes opened wide, both he and Sam looked down to see the wound healed, Annett had not awoken and looked very ill, but never the less she wasn’t dead.

Both men just looked at each other, for the fact remained that Raz’s hands had not been upon her when recovered.

Otto squinted as the three GIs spun the wheels of their borrowed sedan delivery van, throwing a cloud of grit and dust in his face, before speeding off after the army truck.

He grumbled ‘foolhardy’, his sensors flashed through routines, until he locked upon energy signatures, the attackers had trace energy signatures to them, not inherent more something they’d been exposed too.

“What on Earth is it?” exclaimed Sir Reynolds
Raz had taken Annett back to her room, whilst Von Geller, Sam and Reynolds stood around the corpse of the downed attacker.
“Its an ork” replied Von Geller
“A what”
“Humanoid warrior race found on Worlds usually high in Magic” he replied, cautiously checking the corpse for possessions or identification, unsurprisingly he found none
“He’s a rather ugly brute, it is a he isn’t it?” replied the Lord
“Yep they are, and yes it is a he, also completely murderous and utterly driven by the strongest survives instinct”
“So the obvious question is what is he doing here, as he’s definitely not a native and no the irony of that statement is not lost on me”
“That’s the million dollar question” replied Von Geller

Otto trudged back into the Hotels courtyard “Taken off in a truck, your blokes are following them”
“That could end badly for them” interjected Reynolds
“They have owever left a trail which we can follow”
“A deliberate trail?” questioned Von Geller instincts flaring
“No don’t think so, something they’ve been in contact with, left its mark on them”

Murcia, Spain - April 1945
Private Royce swerved the Sedan, a great could of dust and grit blasting over the hedgerows into the crop fields beyond.
Back on the home front Royce had been an avid Stock Car driver, learning his trade outrunning the sheriff with a trunk load of moonshine.

Narrow Spanish lanes weren’t so different from Blue Mountain back roads, that said the truck driver wasn’t holding back, woe betide anyone who happened to be out tonight.
Corporal Brooks waited with his Thompson, they’d been reluctant to fire upon the truck for fear of hitting Meldtz or the Nazi, although they all thought the same on the latter, that this was his people picking him up.

They broke onto a main road, the clear warm evening suddenly invaded by mist, the back of the truck becoming a vague outline.
“Where’d the hell this spring from” rasped Jerry Wells from the back seat
“Keep yer eyes open, nothings been regular since we landed in Berlin” said the Corp
“We’re gonna lose em, this tis gettin thicker” said Royce as he now negotiated obstacles
“Alright!” Brooks leaned out of the window, aimed the Tommy, braced and fired, the truck swerved, its tires absorbing the brunt, Royce swung the car keeping behind the truck, Wells joined in putting several rifle rounds into the same tire.
“Keep on em” bellowed Brooks, Royce did just that as the truck swerved again, in reality the rounds would have made little difference to the solid tire, but the driver was keen to avoid the unfire.

The truck accelerated into the fog, “Shit” snarled Royce as a tree suddenly appeared in front of them, he swung the car into a slide, accelerating at the last moment, the sedan bucked as her fender clipped the obstacle, tearing loose.
“Where the hell’d it go” roared Brooks
The GIs were thrown around as Royce struggled to stop the sedan swerving, regaining control each of them watched the rolling fog pass them by suspiciously.

Pouppeville Beach - Normandy November 29th 1940
They had approached from the Channel under the light less cover of the New Moon, hidden within the silty dunes just beyond the waterline.

“I don’t like this” hissed Private Bremner
His squad mate a yank called Courtney merely nodded, beyond the beach, following the slope of the coastline large defensive fortifications were being constructed.
Lining the construction work were sandbag bunkers and machinegun nests.

“Stow it” hissed a voice from behind their position, both glanced back nervously to see the ominous form of Sergeant Perin, both shivered, neither had seen him move behind them.
Along the sand dune Captain Smythe checked his watch, he was a conventional soldier all this cloak and dagger business seemed divisive, but it was their means of war since Dunkirk.

He liked even less the whimsical nature of this mission, on the edge of detection by several hundred Wehrmacht Heer due to some quack reading the tea leaves.

It seemed to fit the pattern of their operations to date however, the raid on the railway at Noir Brière, their battle in Harstad and the Tavistock incident, the last one caused him to pause, their CO still fighting for his life.

“Sir” whispered Corporal Krutzvelt, who then pointed across the beach.
Smythe squinted, finally making out a figure stood in the pitch blackness of the beach, they’d been watching the beach intently and had seen no sign of anyone.
He snapped his clicker alerting the men along the line, Perin appeared beside him, Smythe nodded toward the figure who was already moving and slipped into the night.

The rest of the squad returned to watching the searchlights sweeping the sand.

(19:54:40) (GM): Stood within the shadows of the beach, search lights sweep the beach - Make a Stealth roll?
(19:56:31) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 1,6,4.
(19:56:48) (von_Geller): 11 out of 17 for stealth
(20:00:57) (GM): The beam of cold light scans across the sand, itself a grim grey rather than yellow, an eerie silence pervades the entire area, as Von Geller flattens himself allowing the beam to pass over him.
(20:01:18) (GM): Make a perception (hearing roll)?
(20:02:13) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,2,4.
(20:02:22) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,6,2.
(20:02:26) (GM): 11 out of 20
(20:02:49) (von_Geller): 13 out of 18 (hearing and visual per equal)
(20:04:18) (GM): "Pssst" a voice sounds from the pitch darkness
(20:04:46) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 4,2,6.
(20:06:43) (von_Geller): Von Geller momentarilly freezes as the voice lets him know he is not alone. Slowly he turns his head in the direction of the voice, his vision switching to infra-red.
(20:10:12) (GM): The beach changes to shapes of increasingly darker blues, against his backdrop lies a a figure recognizable by shades of orange, deepening in place until they become red
(20:11:24) (GM): Another Perception roll?
(20:11:31) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 4,5,3.
(20:11:40) (von_Geller): Is the figure in a prone position, like a man looking down the barrel of a rifle?
(20:11:45) (GM): 12 out of 14
(20:11:49) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 2,1,5.
(20:12:04) (von_Geller): 8 out of 18 for PER
(20:12:14) (GM): He is prone, although infra red dosen't reveal a rifle
(20:13:58) (GM): You can see three additional orange figures moving cautiously down the beach from the fortifications and town above
(20:15:08) (von_Geller): Sighing, Von Geller waits for the lights to sweep away from him before scrambling to his feet and making a dash for the prone figure.
(20:16:08) (GM): Stealth roll?
(20:16:19) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 6,4,6.
(20:16:22) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 6,3,4.
(20:16:33) (von_Geller): 13 out of 17
(20:18:59) (GM): As you rise and move the prone figure fluidly rolls into a crouched position, he shows no sign of sighting up with a firearm
(20:21:38) (von_Geller): von Geller comes ot a halt about ten feet from the figure, dropping to his knees in the soft sand, his arms outstreatched as though he were being crucified. "American?" he asks in a hoarse whisper.
(20:22:33) (GM): "Yeah, we've got to go before we're spotted" the figure hisses back in a Tennessee drawl
(20:25:31) (von_Geller): von Geller climbs to his feet, crouching low. "Lead on, pal!" he says. "We got three coming from there," he says pointing towards the three heat signatures approaching from the shoreline.
(20:27:52) (GM): His proximity now close enough he sees a thin featured man, with a pale complexion, a cold quality to his eyes that VG has seen before a man accustomed to killing.
(20:28:51) (GM): The mans head snaps round following VGs finger, his eyes narrowing "Shit!" he hisses, "This way quickly" and moves with a deft predatory speed
(20:30:32) (von_Geller): vin Geller follows the lithe man but just in case, he unfastens the strap holding his pistol in place.
(20:34:47) (GM): The two of you quickly move down the beach, across the sandbanks and into the shallows of the water, as VG crosses the sandbanks he spots at least 10 figures laid in hiding "We've got company" hisses his guide, a few glances are exchanged as VG appears
(20:36:57) (GM): His guide moves along the bank to a figure who appears to be in command and quickly reports, he then immediately heads back up the beach
(20:38:35) (von_Geller): VG skids to a halt in the sand, dropping to one knee as he nods a greeting to the man in charge. Any sign of a rank?
(20:39:35) (GM): No sign of rank, the man quickly shakes your hand "Smythe" he says "You must be our arrival"
(20:39:53) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 3,6,4.
(20:39:58) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,3,3.
(20:40:27) (GM): 13 out of 20
(20:40:40) (GM): 11 out of 12
(20:41:55) (von_Geller): "I guess so," VG says cautiously. "Oh, err... von Geller," he adds before asking, "British?"
(20:44:37) (GM): "Yes, although we're a motley crew" he replies looking intently at the beach, following his gaze you see four figures, one heading towards the three others, the individual on the furthest right side
(20:45:03) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 4,3,1.
(20:46:13) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 1d6 and gets 2.
(20:46:44) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,6,6.
(20:46:55) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 4,6,1.
(20:47:05) (von_Geller): "Right," VG nods. "So in brief, what's the plan here, sir?" He watches as the steathy lithe American closes in on the approaching Germans.
(20:47:23) (GM): 17 out of 13, 11 out of 13
(20:47:31) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 6,3,1.
(20:47:41) (GM): 10 out of 20
(20:49:25) (von_Geller): What gear do I have with me? Pistol (a given me thinks!) do I have a rifle?
(20:49:57) (GM): A flash of purple sweeps across the throat area of one of the advancing figures, deep red floods from the orange of the figure as the attacker lowers him to the ground, the central figure has made a lot of ground and is closing to a distance within 20 feet of the line, the furthest left slows in their advance
(20:50:23) (GM): You have your 45 automatic and your Thompson smg
(20:51:35) (GM): Knife and grenades
(20:53:21) (von_Geller): "Hold there sir," VG says as he moves up over the sandbank and to the German's flank. "ACH, Shizen!" he curses in a slurred voice in a perfect Hanoveran accent.
(20:56:14) (GM): "Wer geht da?" comes a harsh response,
(20:58:54) (GM): <G>Identify yourself?
(21:00:26) (von_Geller): <G>"Huh? Who said that?" VG replies slurring every word. "Gerhardt? Is that you?"
(21:07:40) (GM): The orange figure cautiously approaches, gun raised at hip height
(21:10:19) (von_Geller): <G>"Gerhar... Gerhardt? That damned French whore of yours has done a runner!" VG staggers in the darkness towards the man. What's the third German doing at the moment? Can he hear me?
(21:14:45) (GM): <G>"I'm not Gerhardt" the figure snarls, the third German is certainly close enough to hear voices but your unsure if he has heard what your saying
(21:19:20) (GM): Another orange figure after pausing starts to circle in an arc heading for the third German
(21:20:29) (von_Geller): <G>"Not Gerhardt? Well thatsh good. Have te... Have to kick your arsh elsh. Theivin' French bitch!" As VG closes on the Nazi he switches his vision back to the normal spectrum and as soon as he can make out the German's features - meaning the German can do likewise, he feigns a trip and reaches out to the man to steady himself. As soon as his hand makes contact the hypo-injector in his finger administers a huge dose of anaesthetic into him.
(21:22:45) (GM): Make a Dex and brawling roll?
(21:23:36) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 4,5,2.
(21:23:45) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 3,2,5.
(21:24:19) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,1,5.
(21:24:26) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 1,6,5.
(21:24:30) (von_Geller): 11 out of 16 for DEX and 10 out of 18 for brawl
(21:24:36) (GM): 11 out of 13
(21:24:53) (GM): 12 out of 14
(21:26:57) (GM): As you mock stumble the German hisses "Mien Gott!"
(21:29:37) (von_Geller): Did I get the drug in?
(21:30:07) (GM): VGs hearing picks up the slide on the MP40 moving, further Dex roll?
(21:30:26) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,2,2.
(21:30:26) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 4,2,3.
(21:30:43) (von_Geller): 9 out of 16 for DEX
(21:32:06) (GM): Your bulk launches past the prone weapon, the hypo-injector plunging into the Germans throat
(21:32:20) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,1,5.
(21:32:46) (GM): He begins to fall carried by your weight
(21:33:50) (von_Geller): I'll let him have the full brunt of my titanium boned self!!
(21:34:18) (GM): The other German begins to move, but then stumbles, dropping to his knees and begins to gurgle
(21:35:32) (GM): Odds or evens?
(21:35:42) (von_Geller): evens
(21:35:52) (GM): Roll 1D6
(21:36:06) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 1d6 and gets 3.
(21:36:16) (von_Geller): typical!
(21:38:12) (GM): Allowing his weight to carry him down VG slams the German into the ground, unfortunately as his arm strikes the ground the MP40 goes off spraying rounds across the sand and more importantly breaking the silence
(21:41:10) (von_Geller): von Geller curses the German for being born and slams his forehead down onto his opponents face.
(21:41:15) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,4,5.
(21:41:42) (von_Geller): 14 out of 18 for brawl
(21:45:53) (von_Geller): How's that anaesthetic workin?
(21:47:16) (GM): There is a simultaneously satisfying and sickening crunch, however the german is unresponsive despite his nose being spread across his face.
(21:49:02) (von_Geller): Looking up from the unconscious kraut VG switches back to thermal to see what is happening up on the beachhead.
(21:50:30) (GM): More search lights begin to sweep the beach, movement has increased considerably on the fortifications
(21:51:49) (GM): The quick American darts past you back to the waterline
(21:53:25) (von_Geller): Leaving the man there VG scrambles back towards the waterline. "Shit!" he grumbles as he returns to the British officer.
(21:58:15) (von_Geller): "Sorry, sir. Think I may have given the game away!" VG watched the man for his reaction.
(21:58:30) (GM): The British Officer Smythe is already stood knee deep in the Channel "Can you swim Sergeant?", the rest of the unit are wading into the water
(22:00:15) (von_Geller): VG frowns as he looks out to sea. "What? Are we swimming back to England?"
(22:00:24) (GM): He looks unhappy and worried but nods "This was a risky operation sergeant, the risk of discovery was high"
(22:01:01) (GM): "No we have a boat but its some way out" behind you, you can hear the sound of dogs barking
(22:02:12) (von_Geller): VG shrugs and clips his holster shut before following the men into the cold waters.
(22:04:22) (GM): Goes the reinforced skeleton present any problems with floatation?
(22:05:13) (GM): And whats his DR?
(22:05:26) (von_Geller): "So," he says as he wades into the water. "What exactly was this operation, sir? What they told me about it you could write on a postage stamp."
(22:06:29) (von_Geller): No - has compensation for weight. DR 12 all over!
(22:07:24) (GM): Swim roll?
(22:07:34) ChatBot: (von_Geller) rolls 3d6 and gets 5,1,2.
(22:07:49) (von_Geller): 8 out of 14
(22:11:31) (GM): A silence descends as the unit takes to swimming at a pace, trying to reach deeper water as quickly as possible, behind them on the beach torches flash from left to right, the huge search lights sweep across the sand and also out to sea.
(22:13:27) (GM): Floating a good half mile out from the beach is a motor launch, the search lights sweep across the slightly choppy sea, as the first members of the unit haul themselves aboard
(22:15:01) (von_Geller): VG grimaces as he pushes through the water. He was going to ring that toff's neck if he ever caught up with him. Reaching the launch he hauls himself up over the side and sighs unhappily.
(22:20:06) (GM): The tell tale plops signify gunfire hitting the water, as VG looks back at the beach he picks out muzzle flashes, these become larger as larger caliber guns open fire from the beachhead "Bugger" curses the British officer as his corporal hauls him aboard
(22:49:30) (GM): The motor launch swings around heavy rounds thundering into the waters, each of the unit crouched low as they hear ominous twangs off the hulls metal. As it pushes out to sea Smythe breathes a little easier and turns to VG "To answer your question sergeant the purpose of our mission appears to have been you, our intelligence was simply that someone of interest would arrive on the beach and here we are! Its all a little cloak and dagger and to be honest I'm as much in the dark as yourself!" he falls silent, looking at VG for any form of response
(22:52:08) (von_Geller): VG shrugs pulling a sodden pack of Lucky Strikes from his pocket. he pulls one out and watches forlornly as it droops saddly. After several attempts he gets it to light. Breathing deeply he sighs. "Figures!" he says to no one in particular.
(22:52:46) (GM): "You seem a bit naffed off sergeant?" Smythe comments
(22:54:42) (von_Geller): "You don't know the half of it, sir. Not the half of it." He leans his head back and closes his eyes listening to the changing pitch of the motor as it drives the boat onwards.

The English Channel - November 29th 1940
The gunfire trailed away, as did the coastline behind them, black waters opened out around them.
The unit remained tense, Von Geller noticed that they weren't just alert but expecting something.

A hiss came from the back of the launch, the engine was immediately cut and only the lapping of the sea upon the hull could be heard.
Then Von Geller detected it, switching to Infra-red he immediately picked out a larger vessel moving at a parallel path to them.

The only problem was that it was unlikely to be friendly, it had followed them from France.

Warily the occupants of the launch watch as search lights stab out from the fortifications and begin to pan across the coastal waters.
Their knife edge tension heightened when further lights blink to life from the patrol boat.

Historical files flash across Von Gellars mind 'Kreigsmarine R-Boat', the description entering his head like one of his own memories, 'Standard crew of 10, one 37mm cannon and two 20mm cannons'.

(21:24:38) (GM): The English Channel - November 29th 1940
The gunfire trailed away, as did the coastline behind them, black waters opened out around them.
The unit remained tense, Von Geller noticed that they weren't just alert but expecting something.

A hiss came from the back of the launch, the engine was immediately cut and only the lapping of the sea upon the hull could be heard.
Then Von Geller detected it, switching to Infra-red he immediately picked out a larger vessel moving at a parallel path to them.

The only problem was that it was unlikely to be friendly, it had followed them from France.
Warily the occupants of the launch watch as search lights stab out from the fortifications and begin to pan across the coastal waters.
Their knife edge tension heightened when further lights blink to life from the patrol boat.

Historical files flash across Von Gellars mind 'Kreigsmarine R-Boat', the description entering his head like one of his own memories, 'Standard crew of 10, one 37mm cannon and two 20mm cannons'.
The Germans search continued, the searchlight edging ever closer to the silent Allied launch.

(21:29:22) Keeper: What's the distance between us and the boat?
(21:29:53) (GM): (Perception roll?)
(21:30:40) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 3d6 and gets 6,1,5.
(21:31:10) Keeper: 12 out of 17
(21:31:35) (GM): The boat is 32 feet to starboard
(21:32:58) Keeper: Shite! and they haven't spotted us yet?
(21:35:33) (GM): Characteristic of a covert mission, its a moonless might and pitch dark, however you anticipate you have mere seconds before their search light sweeps across your launch
(21:39:28) Keeper: do I possess a silenced pistol at all?
(21:40:22) (GM): Yes, can imagine him possessing one in his arsenal
(21:40:38) (GM): Essential equipment
(21:40:52) Keeper: ((two was his standard fare if I recall!))
(21:42:00) (GM): Yes, plus the heavy piece was larger stubborn opponents
(21:43:57) Keeper: I'll move to a position behind one of the other soldiers and bead up on the searchlight. I'm going to used his collar to mask the muszz
(21:51:43) Keeper: I'm going to hide the muzzle flash behind the soldier!!
(21:57:18) (GM): (Make a stealth roll and shot, what's your target?)
(21:59:01) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 3d6 and gets 4,4,2.
(21:59:18) Keeper: 10 out of 16 for stealth
(21:59:40) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 3d6 and gets 3,6,3.
(22:00:16) Keeper: 12 out of 21 to shoot out the light!
(22:00:37) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 2,6,5.
(22:01:39) (GM): (Damage)
(22:01:58) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 2d6 and gets 3,1.
(22:02:13) Keeper: 5 damage
(22:03:50) Keeper: Through thermal imaging, can I see the operator of the lamp, and perhaps even a gunner?
(22:05:16) (GM): Von Gellers vision tracks the flash of heat striking the hot orb of the lamp, immediately the lamp dies, his vision tracks picking out heat sources behind the lamp and several in position at the aft of the boat
(22:06:26) (GM): "Was war das?" (What was that?) he hears, as another lamp on the bow lights up
(22:08:29) Keeper: Take the operator out first then the lamp itself.
(22:09:26) (GM): (Make a stealth roll and shot?)
(22:09:29) Keeper: "Smythe, steer us in closer,"
(22:09:39) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 3d6 and gets 4,3,5.
(22:09:43) (GM): (Two pistols?)
(22:10:34) Keeper: 12out of 16 for stealth (no... single shots from the one carefully aimed pistolla!)
(22:10:46) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 3d6 and gets 2,6,5.
(22:11:03) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 3,1,1.
(22:11:18) Keeper: 13 out of 21 for the first shot
(22:11:24) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 3d6 and gets 6,5,6.
(22:11:37) Keeper: 17 out of 21 for the second
(22:11:54) (GM): (damage?)
(22:12:14) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 3,3,2.
(22:16:33) (GM): "ES GIBT" (There, there) he hears followed by the roar of a machinegun, pulses of white hot heat lance the waters to the boats aft, as the boats and gun rotates a soldier at the rear of the launch disappears in a cloud of blood and gore
(22:19:43) Keeper: Von Geller curses himself for his stupidity. How close are we now?
(22:20:29) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 6d6 and gets 1,4,6,1,5,5.
(22:20:58) (GM): The boats have moved 10 feet closer to each other, now 22 feet away
(22:23:05) Keeper: Throwing off his webbing to make himself lighter, he diverts more power to his legs. Then he sprints the length of the boat and launches himself across the dark gap between the two vessels, his second pistol drawing in mid flight.
(22:25:01) (GM): Make a Jump roll?
(22:26:14) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 3d6 and gets 4,1,2.
(22:26:32) Keeper: 7 out of 15 for jump
(22:28:20) (GM): The launch bounces up and down as he thunders along its length and takes off from the bow, sailing across the gap.
(22:28:27) (GM): Make a Dex roll?
(22:29:01) ChatBot: Keeper rolls 3d6 and gets 1,4,3.
(22:29:13) Keeper: 8 out of 16
(22:32:57) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 4,3,2.
(22:33:11) ChatBot: (GM) rolls 3d6 and gets 2,1,5.